


A Date for Thanksgiving

by LyaStark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Happy Belated Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:13:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21645823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyaStark/pseuds/LyaStark
Summary: “It's Thanksgiving,” the ad read. “Want to skip that long, insulting conversation about how you're still single? About how your parents really want more grandchildren? Want to bring a stop to those conversations permanently? Well, look no further!"
Relationships: Arya Stark/Aegon Mopatis-Blackfyre
Comments: 10
Kudos: 146





	A Date for Thanksgiving

“So, blue hair?” Griff gestured to his near shoulder length hair. “Or no blue hair?” He held up his cell phone with a selfie where his blue locks were a silvery blond. 

Arya studied both versions of him. Either way, he looked so… refined. Too refined. He was less refined with the blue hair, but once you accepted that his hair was blue, his fine features shined through. He wasn’t really what she expected when she read his Craigslist ad. 

_“It's Thanksgiving,” the ad read. “Want to skip that long, insulting conversation about how you're still single? About how your parents really want more grandchildren? Want to bring a stop to those conversations permanently? Well, look no further!_

_“I am a 28 year old struggling musician with no formal education and a dirty old van one year younger than me painted like Eddie Van Halen's guitar. I can play anywhere between the ages of 20 and 29 depending on if I shave. I take on security gigs and work late nights at a nightclub that sometimes lets me play if it’s a slow night. If you'd like to have me as your strictly platonic date for Thanksgiving, but have me pretend to be in a very long or serious relationship with you, to torment your family, I'm game._

_“I can do these things, at your request:_

  * _openly hit on other female guests while you act like you don't notice._
  * _start instigative discussions about politics and/or religion._
  * _propose to you in front of everyone._
  * _pretend to be really drunk as the evening goes on_
  * _Start an actual, physical fight with a family member, either inside or on the front lawn for all the neighbors to see._



_“I require no pay but the free meal I will receive as a guest!”_

Based on that, she had expected someone more rough and rugged. When she met him at the coffee shop on the Saturday before Thanksgiving, she found only him.

“Blue,” she said. “Definitely blue. Can you grow some stubble? Not a full beard, but like you forgot to shave for the past few days?”

“Sure.”

“Why are you doing this?” she asked abruptly. “I mean, I’m grateful and all that but don’t you have anywhere else you’d rather be? Or is that too personal? Yeah, that’s way too personal. Sorry.”

He laughed. “No, it’s fine. My family’s out of the country. I’m having a Friendsgiving tomorrow night, but I have nothing better to do on Thursday. Why not have some fun and a home cooked meal?”

Arya nodded. “Fair enough.”

He cocked his head to the side. “What about you? Why do you want to terrorize your family over the holidays?”

“Well, I’m 21 and mom doesn’t understand why I’m not engaged yet like she was at my age and like my sister and aunt were. My aunt and sister are both divorced, but it worked for my mom, so she still thinks having your life figured out as soon as possible is best. Every year at Thanksgiving and Christmas and Easter and the Fourth of July, they all lecture me or make snide comments about it.”

“So, you’re just not into dating?” Griff asked.

“The last guy I brought home was in high school when Dad used to scare every one of them off by showing them his gun collection. It’s not that I don’t date. I just don’t want to put any of them through that.”

Griff snorted. “Republicans?”

“No, they’re not stupid. They believe in gun control and they know climate change is real. They just know how to control their guns.”

“Guess the physical fight is off the table,” he said with a chuckle.

“Not with my dad or brothers,” she agreed, “but Uncle Edmure’s fair game. He hates singers so be sure to obnoxiously pull out your guitar and start singing.”

“What? How can he hate singers? That’s not possible.”

“Have you ever seen _Eurotrip_?” she asked. “Imagine the ‘Scotty Doesn’t Know’ scene, but worse.”

Griff leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. “How much worse?”

“The song was about him not being able to get it up.”

“Ugh.” He fell back into his chair with a pained yet amused expression. “I don’t think I can bring my guitar. That would just be cruel. It might give him trauma flashbacks.”

“Fair enough, but I do need a proposal,” Arya said. “As soon as you get most of my family to hate you-”

“-I go down on one knee and threaten to legally join the family on a permanent basis,” Griff concluded with a grin.

“Just so.” Arya nodded, mimicking her Bravosi martial arts instructor. “So how much PDA are you up for? Not to be creepy or anything, but we do need to make it look real without making each other uncomfortable.”

“Definitely.” Griff raked his hair back out of his dark blue eyes. “I’m cool with hand holding? Kiss on the cheek? Maybe once or twice on the lips? If you’re cool with it.”

Arya felt heat rise to her cheeks even as she tried to nod casually. She didn’t know why this should embarrass her. They both knew what they were agreeing to when she answered his ad. So she decided not to be embarrassed at all.

“Yeah, I’m cool with it. Oh! And another thing.” She pulled out her phone. “We need pictures of us looking disgusting and in love.”

Laughing, Griff stood and pulled his chair over to her side of the table. “Here.” He moved to slide an arm around her waist, but stopped. “Is this OK?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you when you crossed the line into creepy,” she assured him scooting closer to him and holding up the cell for a selfie.

\-------

“We’ll need to set an extra place,” Arya announced that afternoon. “My boyfriend said he could make it.”

Catelyn’s gaze shot up from her organized binder of Thanksgiving recipes. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

“Because I didn’t tell you.”

“You never mention him on Facebook.”

“Not on the one you’re friends with,” Arya confirmed.

“Why do you have more than one account?” Catelyn demanded. “Are you hiding something from us?”

“Well, yeah, obviously.” Arya flipped the page of the binder to her favorite pie recipe. “I’m an adult attending a university. You’re the one who told me I have to be careful about what I post on my Facebook profile because potential employers might not hire me if they see me having a good time. So I made one for family and work and one for me.”

That was actually true. For her private, friends only account she was Arry Mercy and she included as little of her true identity as possible to it.

“Are you saying this boy is too scandalous to post about on your public account?” Catelyn demanded.

Arya shrugged. “Yeah, but we’ve been seeing each other for a long time and I thought you should meet him.”

“How long?”

“Since the end of last semester. We met when he sang at a bar in Bravos. Here.” She pulled out her cell and opened her gallery. “His name’s Griff. Isn’t he pretty?”

The picture she held up was of Griff kissing her cheek while she laughed.

Catelyn took the phone. “His hair is blue.”

“It’s blue to match his eyes.”

Her mother gave her a look before swiping through the pictures.

“Hey!” Arya snatched the phone away.

“You’re bringing that blue-haired boy to your family Thanksgiving?”

“He’s not a boy like the ones I go to school with,” Arya insisted. “He’s 28.”

“28.”

Without another word, Catelyn rose from the table and left the room.

“Am I planning dinner by myself?” Arya called after her.

Her only response was silence, but when her mother eventually returned to make the shopping list, Griff was included in the guest count.

\-------

Five days later, Thanksgiving dinner was scheduled to start at 3 p.m. At Arya’s request, Griff showed up about twenty minutes late. The impact of it was lessened by Robb and his date also running late. While Arya flew in from Braavos late on Friday, her older brother couldn’t get away until Thanksgiving Day itself. So no one had sat down for dinner yet.

Aunt Lysa had just been snidely “consoling” Arya for being stood up when heavy metal music could be heard growing louder and louder, sending all four dogs to barking.

“That’s probably Griff,” Arya said.

“Where’d you find this guy?” Rickon snorted, openly looking out the window at their new guest. “The 80s?”

“Shut up,” she said, shifting Sansa’s daughter, little Naerys, over to Ygritte. Her sister had dropped the toddler into the nearest set of welcoming arms she encountered upon entering the house and hadn’t looked back at her since.

The dogs packed around the door with a chorus of barking.

“Hey, back! All of you back!” Arya herded them away from the door. “Sit!”

They all sat. But then she noticed her parents had joined her near the entryway and they couldn’t be shooed away. Even Jon was a few steps behind them, clearly trying not to smile. She put on a show of being annoyed.

“Be nice, all of you!” she said turning to the front door.

“Meeting him at the door before he even knocks?” Aunt Lysa exclaimed. “You don’t want to make him think you’re desperate.”

That would have stung if Griff was her actual boyfriend. She might have wondered if she was too into him too soon and coming on too strong. Then she would wonder if the guy really did like her. Thankfully, with Griff, his liking her was the least of her concerns.

“Is that why you didn’t bring a date?” Arya asked. “You didn’t want whoever you’re dating to know you’re desperate?”

“Arya!” Catelyn began to scold.

But Arya opened the door to cut her off and found Griff with his hand up about to knock.

“Hey, babe.”

She jumped up to kiss him and he caught her around the waist, like they had practiced outside of the coffee shop on Saturday. They had only done it once before, but somehow it didn’t feel awkward. In fact, it all but felt… natural. They had agreed to kiss twice. Once in greeting and again after she accepted his marriage proposal.

Arya introduced him to her parents and straight away, Griff openly leered at her mother.

“Damn, I would’ve thought you were Arya’s sister,” he said. “You’re way too young to be her mother. Guess you started early, huh?”

Eddard’s jaw tightened, Catelyn smiled that smile Arya knew she reserved for people she despised but had to be polite to. “Well, aren’t _you_ charming. We’re so happy to finally meet you. Arya has nothing but wonderful things to say about you. Please, sit down and tell us about yourself. We’re still waiting on my oldest son and his girlfriend.”

“Since we have time, Dad might want to show you his gun collection before we eat,” Jon said.

“And we can go to the shooting range after dinner,” Rickon joined in.

“No, I’m a pacifist,” Griff said. “I don’t have anything to do with guns.”

“Pacifist?” Eddard practically barked.

“Yeah, I’m a pacifist,” Griff confirmed. “If we outlaw guns completely, we’ll all be much safer and have a better chance a world peace.”

Her father scoffed.

“Oh, you’re a Republican?”

“No,” Eddard said coldly. “I believe in gun control and firm measures to keep guns out of the hands of criminals and in the hands of the right people.”

“Nah,” Griff said negligently. “I just don’t believe in guns.”

“You don’t _believe_ in guns? When you have a gun to your head and no way to defend yourself, it won’t be imaginary bullets that kill you.”

“Whoa, this is getting really heavy.”

“Yes, why don’t we go into the living room and move to safer topics,” Catelyn said, the polite smile still firmly in place.

This was going even better than Arya had hoped and they were only just now leaving the entryway. Through the entire exchange, she fought off laughter, holding tight to Griff’s hand and forcing her face to stay still a stone, calm as still water, like Syrio taught her. Something told her that her drama professor’s teachings would come in play that night too.

The dogs followed them into the living room and Nymeria practically pounced on Griff as soon as they sat down on the couch, and sniffed him.

“Down, Nymeria!” Arya tugged the grey and white Husky’s collar. “Sorry about that. She just wants to say hello too.”

Despite the naked fear on his face, Griff said, “Hi Nymeria.” He even braved stroking her fur, which she surprisingly allowed without snapping at him.

They did a round of introductions around the room including the kids. Jon and Ygritte’s son Alaric openly asked what happened to Griff’s hair, sending everyone into awkward laughter.

“Cat tells me you’re a singer,” Aunt Lysa said. “You perform in bars?”

“Yeah, I’ve gotten a few gigs at bars,” he confirmed.

“A singer.” Uncle Edmure visibly cringed. “I don’t have to wonder at you not believing in guns. Every singer I’ve ever met has been a coward.”

Roslin elbowed him, but her cousin Robert laughed.

Arya noticed Griff’s face harden. “I brought my guitar,” he said. “It’s back in my van. I wouldn’t mind playing a few songs after dinner.”

Uncle Edmure’s cringe deepened.

Just then, the four dogs all went into fits of barking again and raced to the front door.

“That will be Robb,” Catelyn said, rising.

Within moments, Grey Wind charged in, running laps around the room and stopping at individual people to lick them. Robb followed only a few seconds behind with his girlfriend, Daenerys Targaryen. The two of them were elected to the Great Council and served in King’s Landing, where they met a couple years ago. The family had only seen Dany through the media or at holidays, but she was a good fit so far and everyone loved her.

That’s why Griff’s response came as such a surprise. As Dany came in hugging everyone in turn, Griff squeezed Arya’s hand and looked at her with a warning she didn’t understand.

“Aegon?” Dany stopped in front of them. “Is that you?”

Griff stood up and Arya followed suit, confused.

“It’s me,” he said awkwardly. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

They gave each other the barest of hugs.

It was Rickon who voiced what they were all thinking. “I thought your name was Griff.”

“Griff?” Dany laughed. “No, his name is Aegon Mopatis-Blackfyre. He’s a distant cousin of mine.”

“Blackfyre?” Catelyn said at the same time Edmure said, “Mopatis?”

“Are you, by chance, related to Illyrio Mopatis?” Uncle Edmure asked.

Griff nodded and stole a chagrined look at Arya. “He’s my dad.”

Her uncle sat forward in his seat. “You are the son of one of the wealthiest men in the world?”

“And related to the former royal family,” Catelyn said, looking between Arya and Griff. The smile of false courtesy was replaced by an expression of interest toward Griff.

 _No,_ Arya thought, trying to comprehend what was going on. _Not Griff. Aegon. Aegon Mopatis-Blackfyre._

Part of her felt betrayed, but then she realized that was stupid. Wasn’t she using him to trick her family? It wasn’t like they had a real relationship.

“I like to distance myself from that name,” Aegon explained, looking at Arya and still holding her hand. “People look at you differently when they know who my family is. My dad and I haven’t been on the best terms in the past few years. So I’ve been going by Griff Young to cut my own path.”

“Oh, I completely blew your cover,” Dany realized. “This is awkward.”

“You’re cutting your own path as a bar singer?” Uncle Edmure asked.

“I also work security,” Griff said.

“Right. But your father…”

For the rest of the night, no matter how many times the conversation was directed elsewhere by Catelyn, Griff, and Arya, someone at the table twisted the flow back to Aegon and his wealthy father and the scandals he was embroiled in or the intricacies of his Blackfyre descent. It was an even worse inquisition than Dany's first holiday with them.

Finally, it was time for dessert and Arya volunteered them to get the pies.

“I suppose you don’t want me proposing now?” Aegon whispered.

“No, they would take that as a Thanksgiving miracle,” she whispered back. “Everybody but my dad.”

“He would probably get one of his guns and kill me.”

“Not right away, but he’ll definitely never forgive you for being a pacifist,” Arya said.

“Oh, I’m not,” he assured her. “I just thought that would be a good trigger.”

She snorted. “Holy crap, it was a perfect trigger. I’ve never seen him so pissed.”

“How are those pies coming?” Ygritte called from the dining room, forcing them to hurry along.

\---------

“Well, this backfired,” Arya said as she walked Aegon out to his van. “Mom’s probably planning our wedding right now.”

His eyes brightened with amusement. “Is that's how far you’re willing to take this?”

She shoved him playfully and Griff laughed. Griff or Aegon. Or whatever he was calling himself now. “Why didn’t you tell me you were exactly the kind of guy my mother wants me to marry?”

Aegon racked his fingers through his blue hair. “Like I said, I’ve been trying to distance myself from Dad, his business, and the whole Blackfyre legacy. It all comes with a hell of a lot of baggage.”

“And a lot of money.”

“Yeah, there’s that too.” He shuffled with more awkwardness than she’d seen from him so far. “If it makes you feel any better, I mostly didn’t lie in the ad. I work security with my old bodyguard, Duck, and I do perform at that nightclub. I didn’t get a formal education until I went to Pentos University. Before that, I was tutored at home. Honestly, I was drunk when I wrote it.”

“I was drunk when I accepted it,” Arya confessed, remembering how she and her roommate Daena practically fell over laughing as they read and reread the ad before taking him up on his offer. “I’m happy I did. This was still pretty fun, even if it didn’t completely work.”

“Uh-oh, we have an audience.”

Arya looked back at the house to find Bran, Sansa, Rickon, and the kids watching from the window. Bran and Sansa had the grace to scurry out of view, but Rickon and the little ones just waved.

“Brats,” Arya muttered, turning back to Aegon.

“So, we did agree to two kisses,” he said, brushing his hair back. “Not to be a creep or anything but do you want to finish the show for our audience?”

Arya raised her eyebrows and she felt the blood rush to her face. “Liar. If you want to kiss me, just say so. I don’t mind if you sound desperate.”

“Desperate?”

“Oh, nothing, just something my aunt said.” She shrugged it off. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s kiss again, _for our audience._ ”

Aegon laughed and pecked her. “That was for our audience. And this…” Then he framed her face with his hands and kissed her firmly. Arya returned the pressure and slid her arms around his neck.

One day they would eventually have to tell her family their relationship was just a ruined prank. But that day wasn’t today.


End file.
